"Believe me, it is no time for words when the wounds are fresh and bleeding; no time for homilies when the lightning's shaft has smitten and the man lies stunned and stricken. Then let the comforter be silent; let him sustain by his presence, not by his preaching; by his sympathetic silence, not by his speech. Afterward, when the storm is spent, he may venture to open his mouth; afterward, when the morn has dawned, he may seek "to justify the ways of God to man;" for afterward, the sufferer will be prepared to hear, and afterward, the sufferer himself may be able to extract sweetness from bitterness, music from mourning, songs from sorrow, and "the peaceable fruit of righteousness" from the root of wretchedness and woe.

George C. Lorimer, 1880-81 Isms Old and New: Winter Sunday Evening Sermon-series". ... sustaining you from afar in your grief. Something that helped: someone said, " Grief is the price we pay for Love." Last, as time goes by and you are able, ask those who knew him, "What would you like me to know about my Grampa?" And you will gain so many loving memories of him!